Hotel California
by The Serial Dabbler
Summary: Denial acts as a defense mechanism that denies painful thoughts or events...maybe Adam had been right when he'd said it gets old quickly? After all you can checkout but you can never really leave!


A/N: _'You know this whole denial thing is getting pretty old now.' – Adam. _

Rated T: For obvious reasons, contains _some _swearing.

Disclaimer: I own nothing that bores any resemblance whatsoever to Becoming Human or Being Human for that matter.

Hotel California.

"Don't patronise me Adam," Christa shouted angrily. "You know as well as I do the playing fields' only levelled between you and me on a full moon."

"You really need to stop with this fucking martyrdom _sweetheart_," Adam drawled, his voice shaking in barely restrained fury, something about Christa just pushed him over the edge. "You need to realise that you don't know as much about this as you think you do...you can't always be a straight A-student."

"And you're an expert now, are you? In all your _forty-six_ years of wisdom? Then why the hell don't you explain it to me?" She's lashing out, like he knew she would.

"Haven't you figured it out yet? The only thing a full moon does is drag the wolf to surface, the reason I can smell it on you is because it's under your skin all the time."

"It's not; you don't know...how could you know? That _thing_ destroys my life once a month, that's it! The rest of the time I'm in charge."

Adam hadn't meant to be cruel, he'd known her long enough to see how difficult all this was for her, and hearing what he had to tell her could, quite possibly, tear the delicate footing she'd made for herself right out from under her. But the longer she wallowed in her (frankly exhausting and somewhat pointless) denial the more volatile the wolf would become, and that didn't bode well for anyone.

"Why do you think most vampires are so keen to tear your throats out when they can't feed on you Christa? It's not just because you could rip _us _to shreds on a full moon, it's because as you mature you grow stronger...strong enough to kill us in the form you take 29 days out of the month."

"No," her voice was resolute, despite the noticeable shake. "That's not possible; you _said_...you told me..."

"I know what I said, but werewolves...they're our enemies for a reason, if it was just 12 days out of the year we needed to worry about your lot then we wouldn't bother."

Christa scowled, balling her hands into fists to stop herself from punching him; in his own twisted way Adam was trying to help. Adam watched her wearily, as she turned around to slam her fists against the wall. A small part of him was irritated, pissed off with her constant denial and tired of her attempts to bury her head in the sand. She was losing it over something that happened _once _a _fucking _month. She was a part-timer...and part of him wanted to resent her for that. He had to deal with his shit 24/7, no breaks, no days off and no time-outs.

Except that wasn't entirely true was it? They might not be the same but they shared more common ground that either of them wanted to admit. It was true that Christa only became the wolf once a month, but it lurked under her skin every day; demanding satisfaction on that one night for its compliance...or it would threaten to leak out. Adam was similar, battling with the demon that wore his skin, as he desperately clawed at his humanity in a bid to quench the bloodlust of the monster in his veins.

"Do you have any idea what you're saying?" Christa snapped, her eyes glaring at him. "What you're saying, effectively, is that eventually there won't even _be_ a line between me and it?"

Adam sighed.

"That's not what I meant," he answered tiredly. "You need to accept what you are Christa, ignoring everything won't make it go away, hoping that it's a nightmare you're going to wake up from won't change anything...I should know."

"You don't get to tell me what to do," her voice was firm. "This is happening to me...I get to make the decisions, it isn't fair for you to ask me to accept this."

"You're smart enough to know that life isn't fair."

"No it's not and I get that we've both been dealt shitty hands but I'm not telling you what you need to do. _That's _your choice, _this _is my choice."

"You just don't get it," he was yelling at her now, his patience finally escaping him. "I know that I can't understand exactly what it is you're going through, but I woke up _dead_...fucking _dead _and had to scrape my life back together. I've met werewolves, people that went through what you're going through and you think they didn't have trouble accepting it? But they did, because that's what you do. We've all got fucking problems, so man up and deal with it."

Christa was silent for a long while, her eyes fixed on Adam as he roughly kicked the dirt up around his feet. Adam was an idiot...a big one...but he had a pretty decent hold on his temper, she supposed that came with age, an after affect of a mid-life crisis perhaps? That is if he managed to keep his bloodlust in check.

The few times his fuse had blown his anger had been directed at Matt.

Although she hated to admit it Adam was actually talking sense. It was things she'd known mostly, things she'd hidden from, things she'd needed someone else to confront her with. She pushed aside her pride, and in a gesture of great personal sacrifice muttered.

"You're right."

She leant back against the wall, sliding down to the floor.

"Can you repeat that? I don't think I heard you properly."

Christa frowned.

"You heard...don't let it go to your head."

Adam smirked, slumping down the wall beside her and dumping his bag on the ground. He nudged her playfully, his shoulder bumping hers.

"Take it from someone who knows; accepting what you are might not make things any easier but it gives you some control back...if you keep running from this the things that are following you will just keep getting worse."

"Why are you doing all this?"

Adam didn't hesitate and that comforted her almost as much as his words did.

"No one deserves to go through this alone."

...Maybe it was time to man up?

"Hi I'm Christa and I'm," she paused before pushing on before she lost whatever strength she'd managed to scrape together. "...a werewolf."

"Hello Christa. I'm Adam and I'm a forty-six year old vampire trying to stay on the wagon."

"Looks like we're both screwed, huh?"

"Nah, not quite."

"I guess this is me now," Christa said quietly...defeated, half hoping he wouldn't hear her and if he did she hoped he'd have the decency not to call her one it. But wishful thinking didn't count for much amongst monsters, even if those monsters wanted to play at being human.

"Yeah, but it's not so bad...being supernatural and all. You've got me."

She stared ahead of her blankly.

"You're really shit at this; I thought you were trying to make me feel better?"

"Baby," Adam whispered huskily, leaning towards her. "You don't mean that."

"Yes I do," Christa bit back, scowling darkly. "You're disgusting."

He was close, a little too close for comfort and Christa knew that had Adam still been alive she'd be able to feel his breath ghosting across her cheek. She wanted to move, shift away from him and put some distance between them, but he was goading her and she'd be damned if she broke before he did.

"I'd say you're feeling better."

"There's not really much I can do either way, it's like fucking Hotel California. You can checkout but you can never leave."

Adam nodded solemnly.

"I hear that," the seriousness of his tone demanded her attention, and she turned to face him, careful not to touch him despite his closeness. His face was drawn, his eyes levelled, none of his usual playfulness reflected in his gaze. It threw her a little; it always did when he dropped his jokes and cloak of teenage awkwardness. "You know I meant what I said earlier...you've got me."

The air was heavy, thick waves crashing around senses that would forever feel that little bit too sensitive. She wanted to brush him off, laugh the moment away and punch his shoulder.

But it didn't feel like the time to cower behind the casual barriers they'd thrown up.

Adam very rarely stamped down his natural inclination to be a knob and she somehow thought that playing him off when he did was almost like insulting him, and not in the (mostly) harmless way she'd taken to doing. Christa knew what she should do, but that would open a can of worms she didn't think she could handle just yet...besides making jokes was easy. Even if they were the desperate sort you make when you're trying to escape your misfortunes.

"Don't I feel all warm and fuzzy inside? Honestly Adam if having you around is the plus side to being a werewolf I really don't want to know what the negatives are."

She regretted her words and hated that she wasn't strong enough to do the right thing. He had the decency this time to play along, when Christa wished he'd bullock her for being weak.

"I'm not the plus side," Adam smirked, his usual demur falling steadfastly back into place. "I'm an added _bonus_."

"More like the bit on the side."

His eyes darkened.

"I think I'd enjoy being your bit on the side."

She rolled her eyes.

"That obviously was not what I meant; besides you'd enjoy being _anyone's_ bit on the side."

"What's a man to do? The ladies love me."

"You're a cocky gutter-mouthed sex pest, it's embarrassing."

"Admit it, you love it."

"You're positively irresistible," Christa replied bluntly.

He chuckled, and she could practically smell his hunger.

"You so want me."

She reclined her head slightly to look at him, noting that his eyes had grown black, and his hand now rested on the wall next to her head. He made no move to touch her, but she could tell by the faint movement in his eyes that he was watching her. She scoffed.

"Nah, I'm so over you."

She pulled back, shuffling away from him; surprised and mostly relieved that he let her. She stood up and he rose with her, his hand dragging up the wall. Shockingly she'd never been frightened of Adam, whether that stemmed from some primal werewolf instinct or the fact that he behaved like a complete prick she wasn't sure, although she really hoped it was that last one. No; she wasn't frightened but having him so close and listening to his taunts, that weren't quite as playful as they could have been, set her on edge.

"I think you'd prefer to be under me," he hissed, and she suddenly felt like she was on the losing side.

He seemed more like a predator now and when she thought about it his scent had changed; mingled with something else. He was aroused...she didn't know whether to be amused or horrified at that realisation. It didn't really matter; she wasn't going to let him win.

"You must be going senile," her tone was clipped.

Slinging her bag haphazardly over her shoulder, she tried her best not to scramble away from him, turning on her heel and making her way down the dirt carved path. She didn't need to turn around to know that Adam hadn't moved, she'd have heard him, despite his unnaturally quiet footsteps. She could feel him watching her...it was unsettling, as if he was waiting for her.

"Adam?" Christa turned back to him, grasping at the threads of her resolve...she needed to say it. She should have said it earlier. Her face was solemn, accepting, but mostly grateful. "Thanks."

He looked deceptively human, now that his eyes had returned to _normal? _But then she supposed she did as well, it was all part of the veil.

"No worries," he waved her off, offering a faint smile. "Plenty of room at the Hotel California."

'_We are all just prisoners here, of our own device  
And in the master's chambers,  
They gathered for the feast  
They stab it with their steely knives,  
But they just can't kill the beast_

_Last thing I remember, I was_  
_Running for the door_  
_I had to find the passage back_  
_To the place I was before_  
_'relax,' said the night man,_  
_We are programmed to receive._  
_You can checkout any time you like,_  
_But you can never leave!'_

Lyrics courteous of The Eagles.

A/N: Review?...Is that how it works?


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